Impacts
by TheConciseQueen
Summary: Time Traveler's Wife/The Vow Crossover. AU, Some OOC. When Henry was young, he lost his mother. Nearly ten years later, he runs into a piece of his future. But what happens when the very thing that saved him once, leaves the one he loves most in pain? (Starts slow, but will pick up quickly)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: New Beginnings

Our lives begin upon impact. We crash into things, unprepared, unknowing, and most of the time, unwilling. Flailing into life, we kick and scream because we were safe and warm listening to our mother's heartbeat, eating whatever she had happened to have that day and now we have been cast out into the cold. And our minds don't understand until much later how she could possibly betray us like that! Had we kicked her too hard one too many times? And such is the passages and impacts of time that are left with us wheezing in the dust as everyone else simply skates away.

For me, my impact started at 21, crashing off of a barstool and landing on a cold floor of a dive bar in bumfuck Egypt. The barmaid actually debated finishing her shift before maybe calling the ambulance. I spent that Christmas getting my stomach pumped as she looked down on me coldly and without any fear. "You need help" she spat out, as if she was telling me I had worn the wrong shoes with my suit. So many years had passed on, and yet in those days, I felt like my mother had only just died yesterday. I had seen it from a million angles though. When something big like that happens, the residual stress pulls you back to that moment for the rest of your life.

The funny thing is, when you fall, it feels just like your attention wandered for a second before the waves of time reach up and BAM- you are thrown into another moment. You could be 10 minutes in the future, or 40 years in the past. None of that really matters though. It becomes a matter of life and death. Survival if you must and all that you end up thinking about is getting clothes on, and blending in, until the next shift.

So you can see how hard it is for me to keep anything stable. I kept a job at a library for a while, but a small incident with getting stuck inside the stairwell commanded I get a job where no one would notice if I left. I ended up starting a studio, covering my absences with looking for new bands to sign. Only my best friend Gomez knew where I really was.

And that brings me here.

Well, here being relative in terms of where we are. By the time anyone reads my memoirs, for all I know, I could be completely and totally ghosted. But maybe you are sitting there in a big chair, curled up like a cat, eyes scanning my words to try to make sense of it all. Or on bus, feet stretched into the aisle, a clear broadcasting of "No, I sit alone, thank you." But I hope that one of you, if any of you, sits among friends. You feel alone. And when you look at my words, you see me. A twenty something year old man with a chip on his shoulder. A time traveler. And hopefully, by the end of it all, you understand why I ever let her go.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Clare

We met, believe it or not, at a parking spot.

No. I am not kidding. It was time to renew our Residential Parking Permit zones and lo and behold, she had forgotten to get hers done before the deadline. And naturally, being a traveller, I didn't get much use out of silly things like clocks and calendars. And technically, yes, I should not have been driving anywhere. But that's hindsight, and we all know how that ends up going.

She had just reached her car without the permit when I ran up behind her. She sighed frustratingly and turned around in a huff.

"I think you forgot something." I smiled and waved the permit at her.

She grinned, light flooding her entire face. "Oh I just come here for the three hour line, the permit is really the icing on top of the cake." She held out her hand and turned her head slightly to the side. _I just had to figure out how to make her stay for a little bit longer..._

"You know," I licked my lips and stumbled over my thoughts "I just noticed we have the same RPP zone. Maybe in honor of our zone compatibility, we should go out? Maybe to the Beau Thai?"

Her eyebrow raised "How do I know you're not a crazy stalker who's going to off me with my purse straps?"

I laughed. For the first time in years, I actually laughed. "Henry. Henry De Tamble. Ex-librarian, now studio manager, living with my co worker Gomez. I have a small personal collection of books-" _and I am a time traveler, just so you know._

"Clare. No need to know my last name. Just know that I am Clare." She stuck out her hand, "And yes, we'll meet up at the Beau Thai. At six."

"Six. Gotcha."

And I just felt like in that moment if anything was ever true, it was this; A huge piece of my future just presented itself with a nice and tidy bow. And I would be damned if I didn't pay any attention to it.

We spent that night eating thai food, drinking like we were young, and learning curves. I discovered she loved Jane Eyre, and collected books with dedications. She was very into her artwork of paper making. Her current pieces were heading for the Tribune Tower. Pieces of birds and angels with giant wingspans, and harpies with holy heads. She was simply amazing at anything she had happened to set her mind to.

Clare discovered how many scars I had from a drunk father and the car accident that claimed my mother. Both were long dead, and the money had paid more than enough with both being prominent figures in the Chicago Opera. She found I had no real musical talent, besides plucking out a few basic tunes on a guitar, but I wasn't going to write a smash record. I'd prefer to be in the background anyways.

In light of the moon, I found her sweet spots underneath her breasts where her underwire dug in too tight against her milky white skin. I found the birthmarks between her thighs, the curvature of her ass, the way my hands fit on her waist under her ribcage. I found her wings, and I made her soar into heavens, to eventually drift down on clouds of bliss. I felt myself begin to shimmer, and I was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Something Wicked

_Hospital room._

I've said before I circle around big events, and I am hoping this isn't one of them. I try to glance at a time, but I see nothing. Not even the clock is visible through the blurring. Time drags by, but also seems to be moving too fast, like the cheap carnival rides that go backwards and forwards, throwing you against your seat mates for a cheap thrill. People are blurring, and it hits me that my heart is pounding. I need to sit down, to eat, to think.

A girl is wheeled by me, red hair splayed over her pillow, oxygen mask strapped on. I see her blood pulsing out of a large crack in her skin. I turn my head too slow, and vomit. But nothing comes up. Not even bile. But I am choking. Choking on the need to do something. So I stand at the window and peer into the girls room.

And I go back. Back into my own apartment, my own bed, with my Clare staring at me in amazement. "What the hell was that?" She screeched, green eyes wide in fear. "Where did you go?"

_And now to explain the impossible. _"I need you to stay very calm. You've seen the proof, please listen to my reasoning."

She sat on her heels, arms crossed and glowered at me as impressively as she could. "I am a time traveler. I am the only one of my kind. I disappear, sometimes for days or weeks on end. I don't know where I am sometimes, only that I am not here. This is what will always make our relationship so hard. I hope you can understand that..."

"What is there to understand Henry? How long has this been happening?" Clare's eyes were full of motherly concern.

I closed mine so I wouldn't have to see her pity. "I was young. Very young indeed, but old enough to remember every detail of what happened that day. And it was Christmas night. My dad had been out all night, drinking. My mother was taking me with her to go pick him up on the other side of town. Traffic was hard, as everyone was coming back from wherever normal people go for the holidays. The roads were terribly icy, and we kept our time singing Christmas carols behind one of the semi trucks carrying some scrap metal back to the junk yards.

A man driving a car not even seven days off the lot, was getting impatient. Checking his pager, flipping off other drivers. He was late, and quite pissed off about it. He thought if he rode our bumper a little bit the traffic might move a little faster. Maybe it was just dumb luck that the traffic moved for a good thirty feet, so my mom drove forward, and so did that asswipe" I took a deep breath, coming upon the hardest part. "He sped forward, but didn't stop in time. He hit the car and sent it forward. The scrap metal burst through the windshield, and went through her neck, sending her head falling into the passenger seat. My body did the only parlor trick it knows."

"Traveling?" She whispered reverently. I could feel her hands ghosting up to clasp my face in her warm palms. I simply nodded.

"I ended up going back a few weeks, to Thanksgiving. Watching my parents read to me. It was one of the few times my dad stayed sober for whatever reason." I opened my eyes to her smile; to an outflow of her love and I basked in it. I captured her lips in mine sweetly and inhaled her scent of vanilla and musk. "It was a long time until I was told this; my mother had dealt with several miscarriages. The day she died, she was pregnant again. Had been. She was 12 weeks along, and that was the farthest that she had ever gotten. In retrospect, I suppose that's why my father spent most of his life drinking until he developed stage four liver cancer and passed away in his own apartment. He couldn't cope with the fact that even his genes were failures."

Her hands rushed to unbutton my shirt, and I let her. Her eyes flashed through emotions. Lust. Love. Pity. Fear. I knew what lay beneath my clothes. Hundred of scars that in daylight made me look like a meat bag. Scratches from jumping over fences. Burns from fires, stumbled into upon travelling. A few knife wounds.

"You're not always safe, are you?"

"Never. Although," I paused, moving her chin up with my fingers, pressing my forehead to hers and trying as hard as I can to cement these words into her head. "I feel safe around you. Right here, and right now."

The morning came like dragons, roaring into life and flame in the midst of a war. The sun flickered over the horizon, washing the room in reds and golds. I reached for Clare and found only empty sheets, warm to touch, but not cooled completely. Listening to her padded footsteps around my apartment, I heard her in the bathroom. Stretching gingerly I stood and slipped into my shorts, scratching my head and yawning.

My apartment was generous to say the least. Open floor plan, two bedrooms. A large kitchen. Of course all of this comes at the price of my roommate Gomez, who, though a habitual partier, was up nice and early some days and I really didn't think Clare needed to be introduced to little Gomez so soon after the night we had just partaken in.

She stood in the bathroom, peering in my medicine cabinet, looking at all of the bottles of medicine I took most days if my doctor was quite lucky. But lo and behold, Ingrid's lipstick is there, on the bottom shelf with a pack of birth control. She slyly checks the date and I have to stifle a chuckle.

"It's been over for a while now" I state matter of factly, watching her jump and spin around. "If I would have known you were coming, I would have straightened up." I sauntered over to her, picking her up and placing her on the edge of the skin, lining us up as equals though already I felt like she was so very much more than just equal to me. "Not just my apartment, my entire life."

"What was she like?" She bit her lip, and I could see her thoughts racing through her head. I snorted thinking that she might be hoping I'd say that Ingrid looked like Frida Kahlo's self portrait and had the personality of a wet towel.

"Long black hair, and a major chip. She was quite the drinker but she dabbled in other drugs. Mostly cocaine but she was known as a good dealer and she prided herself in that I suppose. She had a best friend who loved her dearly and to this day I suppose we are great friends."

Her brow furrowed. "You said 'had'... Is that an insinuation that she...?"

"Died. Quite a while ago. The birth control and lipstick is my way of making a shrine to her. A way of saying that she will always be remembered. Maybe not by her junkies, but by someone who cared despite the fact that she was quite a firecracker." I kissed Clare's lips gently, almost as a real gentleman would. "Would you like to get breakfast with me?"

Clare clasped my hands tight and smiled widely. "Pancakes?"

I shook my head. "Red velvet waffles."

"Eww."


End file.
